


Full of Surprises

by clysmian



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 00:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16148561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clysmian/pseuds/clysmian
Summary: When Tressa makes Therion's pickpocketing attempt go awry, a little improv saves the day. Unfortunately for them, 1) things get awkward, and 2) Primrose gets involved.





	Full of Surprises

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh... I started writing this some moons ago before I even completed either of their stories, and originally planned for it to be smut. But then I got carried away with setting up the scenario, and... from the looks of it, this will stay SFW ;; whoops. The story is unfinished as of the time of posting this and I'm not entirely sure where to take it just yet, but odds are the others will make appearances eventually. Anyway. The fic involves drinking and allusions to kidnapping but there's nothing terrible.
> 
> (Where's all the Tressa/Therion fanfiction at?? C'mon guys)

_Come on. Give me something good._

Therion paces mentally as he listens in on two men conversing in hushed tones. They have the looks of men who know things that would be of great interest to him, but that would not take kindly to strangers waltzing up and asking to join the conversation. And so, he has been keeping an ear out from around the corner of this building, hoping to catch some juicy information.

But man, these guys sure know how to keep the suspense going. They're clearly referring to something big, but are being very careful about dropping even the slightest hint as to what it might be. Therion considered the possibility that it might not be anything of interest, but he nonetheless has a strong feeling in his gut that says otherwise.

The two men glance around shiftily and lean closer, then one passes something into the other’s hand. Therion manages to catch a glimpse of a metallic glint. Now, what could this be...? The men return to their previous distance, then proceed to shake hands. _Ohoh_... are some shady transactions being made here?

His chance is right around the corner, and it's so close he can taste it. The thief leans away from the corner of the building and rests his back against the wall, ready to pickpocket the men as soon as they walk past. He hears them walking, heavy footsteps approaching his direction, and his deft hands are ready to do what they do best--

“ _There_ you are!”

_Shit_ \--

So focused on the suspicious men was he that he completely fails to notice Tressa walk up to him. A rookie mistake, especially for a man of his talents. He only has the time to see her annoyed expression before she opens her mouth again.

“I've been looking all over for you!” she says indignantly, putting her fists on her hips. “I told you to meet me at--”

There's no way those guys aren't hearing her. She's giving his position away. If he doesn't act quickly, things will go south _really_ fast.

And so he acts. 

“ _Hey_ , love,” he says with well-practiced smoothness, “Sorry, I got lost. C’mere...” 

Before Tressa can speak another word, Therion pulls her close and pins her back against the wall. She lets out a small yelp as he leans his forearm on the wall above her head and brushes his fingers against her cheek. It's clear from the look on her face that she's just milliseconds away from slapping the ever-loving hell out of him, but Therion leans close and whispers to her just in time. 

“Just act natural.” He subtly jerks his head in the men’s direction. “Don't get us caught.”

The girl’s face straightens as her brain puts two and two together. Good. Now she just needs to stay put as those guys walk by, and... 

“Oh, well,” Tressa speaks up, bringing her hands up to his shoulders. “If you're really sorry, then you should make it up to me, shouldn't you?” She smiles up at him, sweetly but with an impish glint in her eyes.

... Huh? 

“You know... there’s that restaurant you told me about,” she continues, all but purring at him at this point. When the hell did she learn how to sound like that? “I may forgive you if you buy me dinner...”

... shit. Nothing for it, then. Gotta play along.

“Of course. Anything for you.” Therion manages to smirk at her in response just as the two men turn the corner, raising an eyebrow in the false lovebirds’ direction as they walk away. Tressa giggles and bats her lashes.

They pause, and Therion leans back to make sure the two men are out of earshot. Indeed, they're now out of sight entirely. The young man grumbles, pushing himself away from Tressa and the wall. “ _Great_. Now I've lost my catch because of you.” He runs his hand through his hair with an irritated sigh. “Now _how_ do you intend to make up for this?”

He waits for a response, but it doesn't come. Therion turns back to her, ready to give her some sass, but pauses when he sees how red her cheeks are. She's averting her gaze and has a hand on her chest.

Could it be...?

“... Tressa. Don't tell me that actually got you flustered.”

She snaps back to reality and hurriedly folds her arms over her chest, still refusing to look at him. “So what if it did? No one’s done that to me before!”

He rolls his eyes. Right. “You say that, but then you pulled that flirty girlfriend act. Where did you even pick that up from?” Actually, does he even want to know?

“... It’s a combination of observing you and Primrose,” she pouts. “Not that I enjoy it, because it feels so dishonest.”

Figures. With another sigh, Therion scans the horizon again for any traces of the two men. Nothing. “Well, whatever. Let’s just hope those guys don't report me to the authorities for hitting on a kid.”

“I'm _not_ a kid.”

“Sure, sure. If you're an adult, then you better start acting like one.” He waves dismissively and stalks off, not even bothering to throw one last glance in her direction.

And so Tressa stands there, brows furrowed and eyes downcast, clenching at the fabric of her skirt with balled fists.

*******

“Aww. Baby’s first time being hit on,” Primrose coos, wearing a look that makes it clear she's enjoying this far too much. “... Even if it _was_ just a bluff.” The dancer feels the strong temptation to add to her teasing as the last words pass her lips, but elects to cut Tressa some slack when she sees the girl’s countenance.

“Don't call me that,” Tressa huffs, setting her glass down with a little too much force. “Why did he even go with such an idea, anyway?”

Primrose leans back into her seat, stretching her arms over her head. “We both know by now what a good actor he is. Perhaps that kind of improv simply felt natural in the heat of the moment.” 

“... Like what you do all the time?” The girl asks - and Primrose is surprised to hear that her tone is not reproachful.

“Well... yes, something like that.” She pauses, taking in the way Tressa’s gaze is turned down, and the slump of her shoulders. “But you have to understand, Tressa. I know you value honesty above all else, but I've no doubt that Therion only pulled that act to protect you in the event those men grew suspicious.”

After a prolonged moment of silence, the girl lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. “I know.” Another pause, during which she leans her chin in her palm and scans the inn room. “I just... I don't know.” With her other hand, she reaches up and slides her hat off of her head. “I'm embarrassed about the way I reacted, too...”

Primrose opens her mouth to speak, but stops herself and leans closer at the sight of Tressa without her hat. Sure, she's seen that before, but something about the current atmosphere seems different. She scoots her chair closer to Tressa’s and tilts her chin up with a slender finger. “Tressa, look at me for a moment?”

Guided by Primrose’s finger, Tressa meets her gaze, unsure of what to expect next. Primrose studies her features, tilting her face a little here and there to get all her angles. “Um... Prim--” Her attempt to speak is quickly stopped by the woman bringing a finger to her lips and signaling for her to wait.

“Hmm...”

Slowly and gracefully, she reaches around Tressa's head and feels around her ponytail, mentally measuring the length and health of her hair. Once she is satisfied, she leans away from the girl and steeples her fingers.

“Uh... Is there something on my face? Or my hair, for that matter...?” Tressa asks hesitantly, reflexively bringing a hand up to check the integrity of her ponytail.

With a soft giggle, Primrose gives her a smile with a glint in her eye. Whatever that glint may mean, Tressa doesn't know, but she can’t help but feel a twinge of fear.

“Tressa, dear… how about we go shopping?”

*******

All that effort down the drain. No matter where Therion looked, he couldn't find hide nor hair of the two men from before.

He sighs into his mug. Frustrating as these things can be, he knows he can't stay stuck on missed opportunities, lest other ones pass him by. And so, back to the drawing board he goes, keeping an ear out for juicy gossip as he sips his mead. The tavern is bustling this evening; not enough to be suffocating, but enough to help him blend in. He’s glad that the bar stools directly next to him are still vacant, at least. Fewer immediate inconveniences to tolerate.

“Whoa, who's that?”

“No idea... super cute, though--”

“Hey, sweetheart, can I buy you a drink?”

A multitude of hushed and not-so-hushed words begin springing up behind him, but that sort of talk is really rather commonplace in a tavern. Therion dismisses it, not even sparing so much as a glance over his shoulder as he brings his mug to his lips.

“Oh, no, thank you. I can pay for it myself.”

Heh. Either that girl is the independent type, or she's pretty dense. Well, whatever. He doubts he could get anything interesting out of that quip.

“One Fuzzy Meep, please!”

Fuzzy Meep. That's definitely one of those girly drinks, light and sweet and--

“Oh, Therion.”

Therion turns to his left and discovers that the previously vacant stool is now occupied by a young woman. Soft brown hair reaching her shoulder blades and delicately framing a pretty face. A yellow silk scarf around her neck, matching the trim of her white dress - reaching down just above her knees, with elbow-length sleeves that reveal her slightly freckled shoulders. Just a hint of makeup on her face to bring out her natural charm, bringing attention to her familiar green eyes--

What the hell.

“... _Tressa?_ ”

“In the flesh,” she responds, raising an eyebrow. “... What is it? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Shit. Was he staring? Him, _staring_? At _Tressa_ , of all people? What is this world coming to?... He tries to play it cool and turns back to his mead, feigning disinterest. “Didn't recognize you, is all.” At the very least, he’s not fully dishonest about that.

Tressa smirks, if a little awkwardly, and drums her fingernails on the counter. “I couldn't either, at first, truth be told. Primrose insisted we go shopping, and, well...”

Of course. Leave it to Primrose to do this sort of thing. For what purpose, though? “Hm... Is she also the one who told you to come here?” He takes a drink to space out his questions. Didn't want to seem too eager to pry, now. “I thought you hated alehouses.”

“Yeaahh...” she groans, just barely stopping herself from sprawling her upper body out on the bar in defeat when the bartender finally brings her drink. She thanks him and slides him a few coins. “You know how she can be. This is basically a dare, at this point.” She pouts, and Therion can finally recognize her as the same Tressa he knows.

He glances down at the colorful drink. “And are you gonna go through with it? Drinking, I mean.”

The girl purses her lips nervously. “This was also her suggestion...” She raises the glass, eyeing the fizzy bubbles making their way up to the top of the glass. “Ugh. I can't go back on my word now...”

“Sounds serious,” Therion remarks, just barely stopping a chuckle. While amused by her plight, some part of him deep down can't help but feel an inkling of pity for the girl. “Just sip at it and take your time.”

With a deep breath and a small nod, Tressa steels herself and brings the glass to her lips. Her face scrunches up warily as she goes to take her first sip...

... and her expression relaxes, green eyes widening in curious surprise. She pulls the glass away as she savors the drink, then takes another experimental sip. The light of realization seems to dawn upon her.

“... How is it?”

“... Surprisingly not bad,” she answers quietly. “It's hardly bitter, and it tastes very fruity and sweet…”

Figures. He can't help but smirk. “Congratulations on your first grown-up drink. Now just try not to go overboard.”

She pouts, narrowing her eyes at him defiantly. “Who do you take me for? Of course I wouldn't do something like that!”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.” He sets his mug down and signals the bartender over. “I'll have another.”

*******

“... Aaaaand I’m stopping you there.”

Tressa lets out an indignant whine as Therion gently peels her third Fuzzy Meep away from her hand. “But there’s still half of it left...!” She didn’t expect that drink to be so tasty, in the end. Any bitterness would fade quickly, washed over by a pleasant mixture of fruity aromas, with the tickle of carbonation on her tongue. Having that last half-glass taken away from her feels like being deprived of... well, a lot of good things that she can’t really list off the top of her head right now. “Therioo _oonnn!_ ”

The young man sighs. “I warned you and you didn’t listen.” She extends her arm, groping at the air to reclaim her glass, and he easily holds it out of her reach.

“But I’m fine! Really!” Yeah, of course. Her body just feels warm and everything seems funnier, but she’s fine. _Really_. “Please...?”

Therion looks at her with a gaze she can’t describe, but at the very least, it’s intense. And now that she’s leaning on his shoulder, trying to reach around him, she gets a good look at his face. Light olive skin with surprisingly few flaws - at least, she figures the rest of his body is a different story, considering his background and profession. His lips aren’t particularly full or thin, but they’re nicely defined - in fact, she notices the same about most of his features. Subtle, which makes appreciating his face that much easier. Nothing jumps out at you. Everything is well-proportioned.

... Well, almost. The one striking thing - she notices just now - is his gaze. She was never able to pin a name to the color of his eyes. Sometimes it looks icy blue. Sometimes, a steely grey. And sometimes, a faded green...

There’s a prolonged moment of silence between them amid the clamor of the tavern, and Tressa is getting the distinct feeling of being lost and she can’t quite explain it. Her face warms up a few degrees and she takes in the fact that part of her body is pressed against his - the texture of his poncho and his scarf, the warmth of whatever skin she’s in contact with, the subtle smell - she can’t quite place that one, either - and all she can think of is--

_I could stay like this._

“... Therion, I...”

And then Therion turns his gaze to the confiscated drink and downs the remainder in an instant.

_AH!_

“ _THERION--!!_ ” she bellows, or at least tries to. Oh, she _so_ wants to rip that scarf away and wring his neck. Or maybe strangle him with it. Either way, she really wanted to finish that drink and he’s going to _pay_! Somehow!

But just as she’s about to pounce on him, fists at the ready, he abruptly stands up and takes a hold of her wrist. “We need to go.” Tressa nearly stumbles out of her seat and Therion leaves a few coins on the counter before heading towards the door, and she has no choice but to follow.

Short exclamations of confusion sputter from her mouth as they exit the tavern, but she finds herself lucid enough to notice that while Therion is trying to keep his gait natural, his steps have a sense of urgency to them. What, is he _that_ tired of her?! She was just fulfilling the task she was dared to do, and he has to go and make it so much less tolerable by being weird.

Weird and... _good-looking_... and weird. Definitely weird!

Rounding a corner some streets away, Therion finally stops. Tressa catches herself just inches away from stumbling into him. Catching her breath, she opens her mouth, ready to verbally bombard him, but he cuts her off before she can even formulate a single syllable.

“You never noticed, did you?”

She stops, and it takes her a few seconds before she can conjure up a reply. “Noticed what?” She swears, if this is something dumb that will give him an excuse to be condescending, she...

“Some men were checking you out.”

“... Huh?” Checking her out. That means... “... W-well then!” She puffs out her chest and forces a smug grin. “Looks like this makeover was a success! No one called me a child or anything--”

“Tressa,” the young man cuts in, “they were talking about following you. Do you know what that means?”

Her jaw slacks, leaving her mouth slightly agape in the headlights of realization. “You mean...”

“... No one would ever see you again, most likely.” His tone is leveled and firm, and the dim light makes it hard to read his expression.

All of a sudden, she feels much more sober. He warned her and she didn't listen. She got carried away and was well on her way to getting smashed. If Therion hadn't been there to pull her out of the tavern, then some strange men would have probably stalked her through the night, plucked her off the street, and... who knows what unspeakable things would have happened. Her knees quake ever so slightly. Had it not been for Therion's secure grip on her wrist, she might have buckled by now.

... hold on.

Her gaze drifts over to his hand, and she becomes acutely aware of its presence around her wrist. The warmth of his palm, the calloused fingers, the firmness of his grip, the direct contact of his skin on hers...

Therion raises an eyebrow and follows her gaze. After just a few seconds of staring and presumably doing mental arithmetics, the thief quickly releases his hold on her and folds his arms beneath his poncho. “Anyway, look,” he starts again, without so much as a stammer or clearing his throat, “I know you can hold yourself in a fight, but you were a sitting duck in that state. Just be grateful that I happened to be there.”

“Therion...” She hates admitting it even to herself, but the weight of disappointment starts settling in over her heart when he pulls his hand away. Why? His hand was so warm... but she has to remind herself of who he is, of who she is, and that weird thoughts aren't going to get anything done. Especially not at this hour, in this state, in this...

Something clicks in her head.

“... So, you were worried about me and wanted to protect me, huh?”

Therion meets her gaze, and his tone is so flat, you could do laundry on it. “What.”

Oh, hell yes. Something about his reaction is just so satisfying, and part of her idly wonders if that effect is being intensified by the alcohol in her system. “You didn't want me to get kidnapped by some low-life thugs, so you whisked me away like a knight protecting a princess from harm--” She puts a hand on her chest and gestures over-dramatically with the other, hamming up her every word. “I had no idea you were so chivalrous deep down!”

“Ugh. Stop. I'm gonna be sick.” Therion grumbles, looking none too impressed with her sudden theatrics. “I'm just gonna leave you here to find your way back to the inn.”

Something halfway between a chortle and a panicked gasp erupts from Tressa's mouth. “Okay, okay! I'll stop, so don't ditch me...!”

With a roll of his eyes and a groan, Therion shifts his weight to move. “Let's just go.”

“Ah...!” Nearly tripping over her own feet, Tressa scrambles over to catch up to Therion as he stalks away.

... Maybe it's just her imagination, but with the serious topic out of the way, she once again feels rather intoxicated. Her head is swimming, her whole body feels flushed, and it’s getting hard to maintain her balance. It only gets more obvious as she realizes that Therion is getting farther and farther away.

“Therion, wait up-- ah-!”

Her world shakes as she tumbles down to the ground.

*******

“Primrose. Open up.”

After several moments longer than Therion would have liked, the door opens to Primrose in a short nightgown, her long hair pulled into a loose braid. Looks like she was about to head to bed. If she was actually _already_ in bed, Therion doesn’t care to find out, as he pushes past her and into the room.

“... My, my,” Primrose snickers. He doesn’t even need to look at her to know what kind of expression she must be wearing. “So you _do_ know how to handle a lady after all. Change into some clean clothes and brush your hair, one could even cast you to play the role of a prince in a play.”

He doesn’t even bother giving her any sort of response. A very sleepy and rather inebriated Tressa is cradled in his arms, much like a princess or a bride. One he’s all too eager to set down and walk away from. It takes a considerable of self-control to not just unceremoniously dump her on the floor and leave - he knows he’d get an earful for it, either from Primrose or from Tressa herself, once she's sober enough.

Instead, he gently lays her down on one of the two beds... or at least, he tries to, but Tressa’s arms are securely hooked around his neck.

“ _Aww_ ,” Primrose coos from behind him, just barely stifling her laughter behind her hand. “So precious. She doesn’t want to let you go.” And now it’s _her_ turn to get overly hammy. “How could you just abandon her like this when she so _clearly_ wants to stay by your side?”

“Alright, that’s enough from the peanut gallery.” Therion works on prying Tressa’s hands away, which takes a rather surprising amount of effort - she has a vice grip on him regardless of how he tries to pull his head out from the loop of her arms. Pulling at her pinkies seems to do the trick, however, and the rest of her fingers peel away. Still, the girl manages to sit up, and for gods know what reason, she leans against his chest again.

He slowly sighs through his nose; he’s been discovering new and not-so-exciting limits to his patience these past twenty-four hours. Between losing a prospective mark, to dealing with Tressa, to Primrose’s merciless, nigh-sadistic amusement, Therion feels like he’d rather watch grass grow at this point.

The dancer walks up to the bed to observe the two, and when Therion glances at her, he cocks a brow at the fact that her expression is not one of impish satisfaction, but rather one of warm fondness. Puzzling as it is, there’s something needing to be addressed, and he cuts to the chase.

“Primrose, I don’t know what you were planning with this dare or whatever you want to call it. Truth be told, I don’t really care to know,” he bluntly admits, setting his steely gaze on her. “But things could have very easily gone _very_ wrong.” He pauses, watching for any change in her expression. She makes it clear that she’s listening, but gives no sign of... well, anything else. “What would you have done if Tressa had gotten herself into trouble like she almost did?”

The woman remains silent, but gives him a gentle, knowing smile. “I knew she’d be fine. After all, you were there.”

“... What kind of gamble is _that_?” he scoffs.

“I know you’re not so heartless as to leave a lady in trouble behind.”

“You give me far too much credit,” he sighs, but dammit, that’s exactly what just happened, isn’t it? “I just didn’t want to deal with all of you tearing into me if something did happen.”

“Sure,” Primrose smirks, thoroughly unconvinced. “At any rate, it looks like our little princess enjoyed herself, at least.”

Ugh. Enough with the knight and prince and princess analogies already. Therion might have to get Alfyn to make him something for stomach ulcers at this rate. “Well, her _Highness_ can go to bed and forget everything about tonight. I’m out.”

Just as he moves to stand, having found himself kneeling beside the bed to unwillingly accommodate Tressa, he feels another tug on his poncho. He turns his gaze to the girl, who’s now raising her face towards him and blearily blinking at him.

“Thank you, Therion,” she softly manages before putting her lips to his cheek. She finally pulls away and lies down. “G’night…”

And with that, she’s out like a light.

He’s stunned.

And he _really_ doesn’t want to look at Primrose. Not now. Maybe never.

“... _Well_. Like I said,” he stands, huffing, “I’m out.”

And surely enough, he stalks out of the room before Primrose can comment, leaving her grinning from ear to ear.


End file.
